


Love Lockdown

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I keep it low, keep a secret code<br/>So everybody else don’t have to know</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Lockdown

“Y’seem agitated, Wing.”

The flier glared, continuing to bustle to and fro; steps were quick and he made frustrated noises in the depths of his vocalizer as Deadlock leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly.

“C’mon, talk t’me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Y’had a date t’night, didn’t you?”

“YES Deadlock I DID. It OBVIOUSLY went TERRIBLY.”

Deadlock snorted, “Lemme guess, no game?”

Wing looked at him, anger increasing tenfold before he turned back to the counter he was furiously cleaning. His wings twitched and flicked, broadcasting his irritation far more than his silence did, and his field was going haywire in negativity.

No the date hadn’t gone well for Wing. The flier grimaced to himself. The Knight who had requested his company was pleasant enough; the meal had been nice, the words good to hear from someone other than his own conscience but…

In the berth? Another story. A glorified two pump BB gun, they’d been; one and done and leaving Wing to ask where his share was.

And then, Wing being blown off as DEMANDING! Demanding, him! For wanting a little kickback after blowing a mech’s processor and yet he was the demanding one.

Hands shaking, Wing threw his rag and turned to snap at Deadlock only to find the Decepticon was already standing beside him.

“Real dissapointin’ hm?”, laughed Deadlock, that grin doing uncomfortable things to the flier’s tanks, “You were standin’ there growlin’ about being ah… left unsatisfied, O Knight.”

“Hush. I have my needs, same as any other mech.”

“Ain’t debatin’ THAT; you just seem to don’t have this whole berth thing locked down too well, do ya.”

Wing didn’t have to say a word, his annoyance was all in his expression.

Deadlock shrugged, grinning like a cat with a canary in its clutches, “Just sayin’, Wing, y’need to find someone who knows their way ‘round a pretty frame or you ain’t gonna get slag.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“That’d be tellin’.”

“…You sir, are a vain, egotistic, self-important PRICK.”

“Yeah I am, but at least I satisfy a lover.”

Wing scoffed, flinging his hands in the air, “Oh, I’m supposed to just BELIEVE you right, with all this talk of being a satisfactory berthmate whe you have yet to prove you know basic ETIQUETTE-”

“Ain’t gotta be polite to swallow.”

“DEADLOCK, THAT’S LEWD.”

“No, really?”, asked the ex-Con with an air of mock-surprise, “Me, lewd? Surely y’jest Wing. I’m just a li’l angel in armor plating, y’know.”

“You’re a devil and you know it.”

“Hey, Mortilus fell from SOMEWHERE didn’t ‘e?”

Wing rolled his optics, going back to cleaning as he thought for a moment. His voice was quieter when he spoke again.

“…Let’s say I did ask you.”, he said, hesitant and careful, “Would you even accept? I am, after all, your captor. Who’s to say this isn’t some kind of… twisting of your psyche?”

“I’d ask you who taught you psychology.”, snorted Deadlock, “Yeah, you told me I was basically trapped here until I could beat ya in hand-to-hand. And then y’kept the doors either unlocked, or used a real basic system I could disengage with two pulled wires and a popped connector. No guards, no bars; hell, I even have a berth and fuel.”

“Maybe its from feeling as though you owe me.”

“Here’s the thing, Wing, I don’t owe you anythin’. You lot chose t’help me, and for that I am grateful. I could escape any time I wished; I could kill you, your Knights, and your leader in your sleep if I wanted. But I don’t want to. And that’s the difference.”

Wing seemed almost embarassed as he continued, “But… would you want to sleep with me, even considering all that.”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t say no, even if it was a one time thing.”, purred Deadlock, “You ain’t hard on the optics, and you got a real sweet voice.”

“My voice?”, chimed Wing, optics narrowed as he looked at Deadlock.

“I like ‘em vocal; and I’d bet you’d be a real songbird.”, laughed the Decepticon, inspecting his claws, “But who am I t’say so, I haven’t had the pleasure a hearin’ it.”

“Neither have I.” said Wing simply, looking back at the counter as he scrubbed it and missing Deadlock’s mildly horrified expression, “Between Circle duties and some… rather unhappy flings, no one has heard me make much more than a moan.”

“That’s just… blasphemy, ta be honest. Why not do it yourself? You ‘f all people should know where to go t’make it good.”

“No time. I’m not unknowing of berthroom practices, Deadlock; my previous partners can attest to that, but…”

“But they just wanna take, take, take and don’t give a damn thing back, huh?”

“…Yes.”

“Damn shame.”

“Tell me about it.”, sighed Wing, leaving off scrubbing the portion of the counter he had been working on. He turned, facing Deadlock as he leaned against another counter-edge, crossing his arms over his chestplate almost nervously.

Deadlock tilted his helm, “Somethin’ botherin’ you?”

“So… If I asked, You would be willing…?”

“Mhm. But the stipulation is that y’gotta ask. Real nice, if y’please.”

Wing seemed to ponder things for a moment, briefly shuttering his optics before opening them resolutely. His stride swallowed the few steps it took to bring him in front of Deadlock, a hand on the Con’s chestplate in a touch so delicate it could be made of bone porcelain.

Softly, he pressed his lipplates against Deadlock’s, feeling the mech’s servos move to rest easily on smooth hips.

Wing pulled back enough to whisper, lips still brushing Deadlock’s, “Please?”

“Well, since you asked so damn nice…”, breathed Deadlock, pulling Wing’s hips against his own.

Wing gasped, and then his voice was taken by another kiss. Helms tilted so lips could fit together almost too-perfectly, and Wing’s hands crept over Deadlock’s shoulders until his arms draped over them. The flier swore his legs were weak, that this Decepticon wanted to whisk away his soul with nothing more than the contact between lips and glossas.

Wing whined when the kiss broke, when Deadlock’s clawed servos dipped into hip joints to pluck and stroke cables and wiring and make those already-weak legs nearly shake.

“Might wanna shut down your comms, sweetspark.”, purred Deadlock into Wing’s audial, “Don’t want any interruptions now.”

“Nngh.”

A soft ping sounded as comms were set to Do Not Disturb. Deadlock laughed low in his chest as he leaned back, hands once again moving over Wing’s figure, pulling Wing so that one of Deadlock’s thighs was between the flier’s own. Another tug, and they were close, close, close; close enough for Wing to feel Deadlock’s spark thrumming through his armor.

Those claws traced meaningless lines over Wing’s plating, making the flier squirm as Deadlock attacked neckcabling with fangs and glossa; he pulled such pretty breathy sounds from Wing, gasps and trills and tiny pleas to not stop, to give him just a little more.

Deadlock shifted his leg, grinding his thigh against Wing’s panel and making the mech choke on his own voice.

“Tsk, now now- Get loud if you wanna, sweetspark.”, crooned Deadlock against Wing’s neck after pausing his teasing of the cables, “Get real _loud_ with that pretty, pretty voice.”

Deadlock’s hands guided Wing’s hips into a steady roll against the Con’s thigh; whispered praise drifting into Wing’s audials as the knight rested his helm against Deadlock’s shoulder and moaned softly from the careful pressure.

Click.

Wing’s faceplates heated against Deadlock’s shoulder as the sound of the flier’s panel-latch unhitching sounded out. Deadlock hummed in approval, his thigh leaving off its press against Wing; making the knight whine from lost contact.

“Berth, darlin’.”, whispered Deadlock, “Then we can get t’the _real_ fun, hm?”

Wing nodded, ex-venting slowly to reign in his surging temperature and maybe calm the needy throbbing in his array. Deadlock slid away from him, clawed servos sliding over heated plating to catch Wing’s own and tug before he let go.

Wing followed the Con’s rolling gait with his optics before remembering to follow, almost stumbling as he did. After this long without decent foreplay, suddenly his processor seemed to not know how to handle it; especially when his current berthmate seemed rather knowledgeable on the subject.

He flitted after Deadlock, the flat a blur in his peripheral until they reached Wing’s berthroom, where the flier all-but flung himself into Deadlock’s arms and nudged the Con’s jaw for more kisses.

They were readily given, slow and spark-stopping and just barely on this side of too warm. Deadlock’s chest rumbled in another purr as he walked Wing backwards, shepherding him to the berth with its tangle of blankets and pillows. Wing broke the kiss this time, gasping as the back of his knees knocked the berth edge and he fell into the piles of soft fabric with a shocked sound.

Then Deadlock’s kisses were everywhere; over his chestplate, against his neck-cabling, over his abdominal plating. A glossa teased hairline seams, and Wing’s backstruts creaked as they arched.

Deadlock nuzzled Wing’s thigh as he knelt between spread knees; nipping the plating to make Wing shiver.

Wing panted, groaning as his spike was freed, as he felt the coolness of the room breezing over his swollen valve.

“Please.”, he panted, “Pleas don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it, darlin’; y’look good enough to eat.”

Wing nearly howled when a glossa lapped at the head of his spike; he curled his servos into berthcovers and rolled his hips with a desperate whine. Deadlock continued his teasing licks as his servos brushed over slick valve lips, a thumb tapping at the anterior node and making Wing shudder. The flier’s sensornet was far past active and every touch just made the mercury rise on his core temperature.

Deadlock swallowed Wing’s spike down to the base as his middle digit slipped in, curling and pressing against metalmesh walls as it slowly retreated and Deadlock gave a healthy suck.

Wing almost wailed; his optics already flickered white as Deadlock’s helm bobbed slowly, as two and then three servos slipped in and out of a clenching valve and Wing thrashed with whispery soft begging echoing out into the room.

Deadlock swallowed around Wing’s pulsing spike and felt the flier’s hand on his helm finial; shaky digits tracing crooked lines over the surface.

Deadlock’s optics flickered up to see Wing propped on one elbow, his jaw hanging open.

Deadlock swallowed again, thumb moving in sharp circles over the glowing anterior node as his servos curled once more-

And he _purred_ around Wing’s spike.

And this time, Wing screamed. He fell back against the berth in an arch, howling Deadlock’s designation in broken tones as his spike throbbed with each pulse of fluid it released. And Deadlock swallowed each generous gift, purring the whole time. Wing was shaking, the servos still working in his valve as he twitched tilted his hips for more after Deadlock slid his mouth off of Wing’s limp and twitching spike.

“Mmn. _Someone_ needed that.”, said the Con, his voice thicker-sounding.

“I-I’m Sor-”

“Don’t apologize, I ain’t complainin’.”, laughed Deadlock, servos sliding from Wing’s twitching and needy valve, “Y’taste as sweet as y’r candies, and damn can you sing, sweets.”

Wing’s faceplates, yet again, heated- and then Deadlock was over him, kissing him, pressing him into the berth and Wing’s optics rolled back into his helm as he tasted himself on this sinner’s lipplates.

He rolled his hips against Deadlock, begging with his actions because his words were unavailable when he needed them.

A familiar snickt sounded into the air, and Wing whined like a hungry beast.

Deadlock laughed, a sound like flowing molasses or carmelized sugar, leaning back to take his own spike in hand and drag the head between Wing’s valve lips.

“What’s the matter, Wing; _want_ somethin’?”

“T-Tease!”

“Yep. Y’seem t’like it so far.”

The head of Deadlock’s spike dragged over the glimmering anterior node and Wing gasped, opening his legs further.

“Ask me real nice again, Wing. Real, _**real**_ nice.”

Wing, sprawled on his own berth, optics swirled white and lipplates slick form his heated panting, looked up at Deadlock’s lewd smirk. He undulated his body, feeling the head of Deadlock’s spike pass over the clenching valve’s opening and he gasped another soft, “Please!”

One word, coated in desperate need and a burning want for someone to overclock his processor, short out his vocalizer; that pretty songbird’s voice roughened by lust and something a little more primal than his normal holy words.

A prayer to a much more physical, tactile god.

“Please, Deadlock, please; _I need it._ ”, begged the flier, wondering where all his quiet confidence went.

Then his wondering was half a galaxy away when the head of Deadlock’s spike pressed past the first valve ring. Calipers rippled in erratic waves, and Wing’s mouth formed a perfect O shape.

Deadlock pressed in further, slowly _oh so slowly_ , until he hilted into the squirming flier.

The Con vented harshly, burying his faceplates against Wing’s throat and groaning like wet gravel.

“Dammit, you almost feel _too_ good.”, he purred, giving Wing’s neckcabling a harsh but playful nip.

“I-I tr-y.”, breathed Wing, whining for Deadlock to move as his servos scrambled for a hold on the Con’s backplates.

Deadlock’s hips drew slowly back, and once more pushed slowly forward and Wing whimpered a moan at the delicious stretch. Again, he widened his legs just a little more, whispering his needy pleas into Deadlock’s audial and making the Con’s engine rev sharply.

Deadlock grinned, feeling Wing’s servos scrape over his back as his spike was seated fully into the flier again. Their hips met, and Deadlock twitched his, musing at how Wing would react.

Wing hissed, sensornet lighting up yet again as he pushed and pulled Deadlock into another kiss; all dentae and glossa and whispered demands. It wasn’t until it was too late that Wing noticed Deadlock had captured the flier’s wrists, pinning his arms above his head to the berth.

Optics half shuttered, frame eagerly quivering in high-strung desire, Wing gave Deadlock a lust-drunk smile as their kisses once more broke like reeds in a storm.

“Spike me like they don’t know _how_ to, Lock.”

With a growl, Deadlock drew his hips back.

“With _pleasure,_ Wing.”

Deadlock’s hips surged forward, pushing deep and hard into Wing and the flier’s back snapped up into an arch again. His vocalizer spit static at the sudden surge of pleasure over his sensornet; at Deadlock’s hard and heavy rhythm.

Wing gasped and yowled his pleasure, feeling his back slide over the berthcovers with each heavy thrust until both his wrists were released; until Deadlock slid his hands over the flier’s overheated frame to grip Wing’s hips and pull him into each thrust.

Wing gripped the tangled fabric beneath him, crying out as Deadlock struck deep within his valve, lighting up nodes Wing wasn’t sure had ever been struck.

Wing thrashed, shoulders pressing into the berth as overload clawed its way over his sensornet with the frantic fury of an escaping myth-

His back arched until his helm nearly left the berth when overload finally crashed over him like a stormcell breaking; he screeched Deadlock’s name until it bounced off the walls and Deadlock merely laughed; their hips crashing together as Deadlock dove down for another kiss. He pressed Wing into the berth, swallowing every hungry cry and roughened moan and felt Wing’s legs wrap around him tight.

Wing jerked his helm to the side to gasp out, “Harder!” like a convent’s prayer and Deadlock obliged, forgoing pace for force.

Wing shouted with each collision of their hips, optics losing focus and finally crossing as another overload rocked his processor.

“Do-ONT STOP, FOR THE LOVE OF PRI-IMUS DON-T YOU DARE STO-AH-OP!”

Deadlock snarled, engine revving as he hefted Wing’s hips, pressing the flier harder into the berth and pounding into him.

The Knight wailed Deadlock’s designation as his legs shivered and trembled, as pedes curled and calipers rippled in ever-faster waves.

“O-Oh Primus, oh heaven above, o-oh, ohnnghha-ah-AH!”

Static and white noise and a shriek of completion. Deadlock shuddered, managing to thrust into Wing’s clenching valve once, twice before overloading. He gasped, body curling over Wing as the flier’s frame steamed; as radio fuzz hissed from a staticked vocalizer like a out-of-range station.

Wing was limp, optics dim as they tried to online properly. The fabric Wing had gripped was torn, his legs shook and twitched fitfully. With a soft hiss, Deadlock eased his spike from the still-clenching valve, grinning when he moved servos to tease the pulsing anterior node. Wing whimpered, hips twisting away and towards the sensation at the same time until his abdominal plating seemed to seize; as lubricant dripped thickly from between servo-scuffed thighs.

A ping as Deadlock’s comms lit up with a private message.

::My legs are still attached, yes?::

“Yeah, Wing.”

::….Oh Fraggit.::

“You’ll get feelin’ in ‘em again soon, don’t worry.”, purred Deadlock, petting one of Wing’s thighs reverently, “Then it’s time f’r round two, if you’re up ta it.”

::…Oh HELL yes.::

Deadlock laughed as Wing’s optics finally onlined, and the flier merely grinned at him.


End file.
